Bleeding Out
by SnapTobiume10
Summary: And the animus was not perfected, it would, slowly and nearly undetectably, cause the participant to die, breaking apart from the inside out, bleeding out so slowly. She had to choose. "Jane Rizzoli." Assassins Creed/ Rizzoli and Isles crossover. An all new type of insanity for you to share.
1. 3rd November 2012, Room of the Animus

"_There are three. We only require one of them." The older man growled, slamming his fist on the table. "This damned contraption cost me a fortune, not only to build, but to keep a secret! So you, girl, are going to tell me which one to go after, and then I will put a plan into action, in order to capture the one!" The woman swallowed, looking down at a computer that she used solely for this business, reading over her notes in order to think carefully about what to say._

_She didn't want to be a part of this, originally. She had only applied to be a part of this new firm, because she had thought it was some type of small corporation setting itself up in the city. Little had she known, it was a firm run by her biological father. She would admit to the fact that he was a brilliant man, but she was severely frightened of him. He had all but kidnapped her, forcing her silence about a contraption referred to only as the Animus, some type of machine that was created in order to activate the memories held within a person's genetics, and allow them to live such events as they had been, by the ancestor. He was after some artifact that she hadn't quite figured out yet, for he knew she was much too smart for him to confide in her. She, after all, could not lie. The information was close though, just at the edges of her fingertips, and she would have all of her answers soon._

_But he was adamant, he would get what he sought at any cost. And the animus was not perfected, it would, slowly and nearly undetectably, cause the participant to die, breaking apart from the inside out, bleeding out slowly. Not that the prospect of taking a person's life for personal gain truly sat well with the doctor, but she had accepted the man's cruelty... Until he gave her the name of the family that he needed a person from._

"_I am waiting for an answer, woman!" The tone of his voice made her swallow, thickly. "Choose one of them!" She thought about her answer for a few moments longer, considering every relation, every possibility, as closely as she could in such a short time. She had three options._

_Tommy. He was the easiest to talk into coming with her. She knew just how simple it would be to get him to come to the lab, hook into the animus. But he was the weakest, he wouldn't survive anywhere near long enough. And his sister would never forgive her, when the youngest brother died._

_Frankie. He was stronger than his younger brother, of that she was certain. He would probably survive until her biological father had all of his answers. However, she was attached to the street cop, if only in a brotherly fashion. She couldn't speak his name either._

_Jane. In her biased opinion, the strongest of the three. Also the most difficult to access, to get to this vile place, and to destroy so slowly. The one that she was senselessly, albeit quietly, in love with. She would gladly put herself in the animus before she ever damned Jane to that awful fate of being destroyed from the inside out, from bleeding out without knowing it._

"_I said-"_

"_Jane. Jane Rizzoli." The man paused, before he smirked slightly. She swallowed._

"_The sister... Good. Now that's left is a plan worthy of-"_

"_I'll bring her here." The doctor whispered quietly. "She'll come if I ask her. She'll do anything, if I'm the one to ask her."_

* * *

Jane stopped her car outside the address that Maura had sent in a text to her earlier, putting the unmarked vehicle into park before checking her hair and stepping out. The medical examiner always looked runway- perfect, and she always felt the need to try and look decent when with her best friend. She entered into the main door, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the basement level, stepping out before she froze. There was something wrong here, and the detective drew her gun quietly, taking a few cautious steps forward.

"Maura?" She questioned into the air, trepidation creeping into her tone If anything had happened to the doctor, she would never forgive herself. Maura was so much more than just her best friend, if Jane stopped to think about it. The quirky, slightly awkward medical examiner was nothing short of her entire world. Glancing around the corner before she stepped out to the larger room, Jane nearly cried out when arms trapped her, grasping both of her wrists and pinning them behind her back. Her gun clattered to the ground as she struggled, before the female officer was jammed against the steel wall of the room, her nose cracking audibly.

"Feisty, aren't you. You'll have to learn to be more compliant though, you're pretty much stuck here with us." She didn't recognize the voice, trying to turn her head to the side, to see her attacker.

"Maura. Where's Maura? What have you done to her!"

"Nothing. You shouldn't care so much about her, its due to her that you're even here." The detective writhed, trying to break free of his hold. She had to find the blonde doctor.

"Maura-!"

"I... I'm here Jane. I'm fine." The tone was different, but only slightly. Jane only caught the minor note of difference because she made it her business to know every miniscule, seemingly unimportant detail about the gorgeous medical examiner. "Please. Listen to him."

"What do you want from me." The detective growled, tilting her bloodied face to the side, trying to locate her friend.

"You're going to participate in a bit of an... Experiment, if you will, Miss Rizzoli. Maura, if you would." There was a shaky inhale from behind her, and slightly to her right, the sound of shuffling papers. The man sounded smug, as though he was certain of the outcome of his experiment.

"In a series of genetic tests, using a machine built solely for the purpose of genetic memory immersion, you will be a witness and active participant in the previous memories of your ancestors. Through the application of such memories contained within the genetic code, you should be able to locate the artifact referred to as the 'piece of Eden.' This machine, known as the animus, is located here in the laboratory where the test subject can be monitored at all times, in order for safety details to be conserved." There was a long pause, where Jane swallowed.

"It doesn't seem like I have much of a choice. Where is this thing, then." The man holding her wrists chuckled, releasing her abruptly and picking up her gun, which he tucked into his pants.

"Smart woman. This way, if you would." Following him down another brightly lit hallway, Jane could barely contain her anger at the doctor. How could she make this more of a hostage situation than anything else? If Maura had simply asked the detective, she would have come willingly. She would have moved into the machine, gone into genetic memory, whatever that was, more than willingly. The bald man led her into a large area, a large desk situated at one side while a metallic bed- like structure was nearer to the center of the room. Three large computer screens were beside it, complete with a double keyboard that she recognized only because it had been on Frost's Christmas list this year, which she had searched on Google during a free moment to decipher the cost. "Your room is the one on the left, though the door is locked at all times. This is the laboratory, where the animus is located and maintained by Doctor Isles exclusively. As far as meals, you will be served in your room three times a day, when not in the animus. There is an attached bathroom, and everything should satisfy your needs." He swept his hand towards the contraption that seemed to be a simple, metallic bed. Jane nodded. "The first session can't hurt to begin as soon as possible. Maura." The blonde stepped past, her eyes cast downward as she did so, as if she was embarrassed about something. She tapped a couple of keys, before all three screens lit brightly. She offered one hand to Jane, who shrugged past it, jumping up ungracefully onto the machine.

"So how does this work, Doctor Isles?" She knew her words stung the doctor by the way she flinched, her eyes moving down to the keyboard almost immediately.

"The machine will access the memory from your ancestors wound into your DNA, accessing and allowing you to become a spectator to specific events as they happen. The activation of the animus will appear to be a white sector as you synchronize with the previous self. As far as your well- being, I will be here to monitor all status and progress within the animus, and can remove you from the experience if needed. After a certain amount of time has passed, and the selected memory has played itself out, you will return to the engaging animus, where you can choose to come out of the animus yourself." She swallowed, as if she wanted to say more, to say something monumentally important, before nodding to herself. Jane sighed, rolling her eyes up to the white ceiling before closing them, trying to get comfortable on the very uncomfortable table.

"Right. Genetic memory. Sounds fun. Lets do this."


	2. 1190 AD, Temple of Sands

Iohannes stepped into the tower, melding into the shadows as he did so, steel blades dropping in the space where both of his ring fingers used to be. The hidden blades were his pride and joy, the pieces signifying his allegiance to the assassin's creed. He was here, on a mission for the guild, to find the Chalice, an object that is much too powerful for mankind, and must be destroyed. He was the most highly skilled, he needed to find it, to complete the mission. If he failed... Well, Jerusalem would be lost, one way or the other. It was the Holy War, and there were many more sides than only two.

The initial entrance way that made up the beginning of the Temple of Sands was empty, nearly stark bare. There were two statues, both cracked and broken, the one on the right lifting in the shape of a woman. She had, at one point, had her arms risen above her head. Now however, she had only one. On the other side of the stone door was a hooded figure, who's face had already been worn away, or perhaps had never been there to begin with. Leaving the analysis of such statues to someone with more time to ponder such things, Iohannes slipped through the stone door, falling easily into a crouch as the door seemed to crackle shut behind him, springing quietly into the shadows as quickly as possible. Thanking his Gods that he hadn't been seen just yet, he slipped through the darkest parts of the room until he was just behind the Templar guard blocking the next steps for his journey. Standing abruptly and wrapping one hand around the guard's throat, he slammed his hidden blade through the man's jugular, blood hitting the far wall as the man fell. The assassin turned, jumping onto the next of the guards putting his blade through an eye with a well- practiced movement, drawing his sword with his right hand. He twirled, blocking a downward slash meant to take his own life, reaching his shorter wrist- clasped blade into the mans gut, slicing from his left hip to his right, before dropping into his crouch again. He could already hear the sound of more footsteps approaching, padded boots sprinting quickly through the hallway, pausing at the door.

From his perch on the rafters, Iohannes tossed three consecutive throwing daggers, smirking to himself in satisfaction as each one drove home into the eyes of a different person, a different guard. He then sprang downward, rolling in order to effectively dull the sound of impact, and to avoid self injury. Stepping off down another dimly lit hall, he paused to reflect on the inadequacy of the Templar guards. Yes, there were many of them. And yet, so many of them were so easy to trick, to get out into an area where they could be fought more effectively than on their own terms, as he had just exhibited.

At one point in time, killing people had not been easy for him, he reflected, carefully calculating the most efficient way to dispose of the multitudes of guards in his way, drawing out more with each calculated noise, wasting no efforts, withdrawing blood- covered knives from the carcasses that bathed the temple walls in red.

The last door for him was propped open, a man's back to him as he read over some large text that undeniably held the very information that the assassin was seeking. He recognized the man who's back was turned, drawing his left handed sword while at the same time readying his hidden blade. He takes measured steps, silent as the shadows from the assassin's guild had taught him to be, when the Lord of the Templar turned.

"Iohannes. Pleasure to see you." The sarcasm was not lost on the dark- haired assassin, who simply grimly set his mouth before replying.

"I'm here for the Chalice. As you should know." The taller, blonde man tilted his head to the side, before nodding slowly.

"Indeed, indeed. However, it seems that both you and I have come to the wrong place! Fancy such an unfortunate move as that."

"What do you mean by that, Venom?! Speak, before I cut your worthless tongue out!" The Templar grinned widely, shaking his head.

"The Chalice, she seems to be more... alive, than an artifact found in a temple such as this. To be found any less than free... And yet it is she that we both seek to captivate, to keep in a cage, be it as glorious as if it was made of gold." He nodded. "Yes, to catch her once I find her. That is the true test. You, you are not a threat to me, Iohannes. You will fail to find her, and fail to save that which you seek. And that, my dear assassin, is what you are not prepared for." The assassin moved to attack, blinking as he took a step, when the other man brushed past him, out the door as the ceiling rumbled.

Iohannes thought nothing of his movements, before he was already sprinting through the halls that were much more of a twisted, sandy labyrinth than they had been while he was coming in. Now, there was sand spilling in from the ceiling, blowing through the stone walls that had barely even been cracked before. In the foyer, the exiting light just out of reach, within the assassin's sight, he turned over his shoulder. Those statues... The chalice. Everything began to make sense, as he exploded out into the desert,, mid afternoon light nearly blinding him with its sharp contrast to the inside of the temple. Iohannes stopped, glancing behind himself, one last time. The statue, the chalice, the man's words.

"The chalice... She is alive. She is human."


	3. 3rd November 2012, Jane's Cell

Jane's eyes snapped open, and she shivered. She looked up at a white- washed cement ceiling, finding herself subconsciously checking if it was falling in on her, before shaking the ridiculous notion out of her head. She was breathing hard, clutching the edge of the steel bed as if her life depended upon it. She knew that the... Memory, was it? Wasn't real, wasn't in this particular life at least. But she couldn't help but recognize that it had been one of the most intense moments of her life, and it wasn't even truly hers! Thinking about the speed of her breath, she tried to calm herself. After a moment, she tried to shift, attempted to get up from the bed, limbs shaking violently before a gentle hand slipped under her shoulders. It was as if she couldn't really control her own body, and she clung onto the arm, her own shaking.

"Let me help you." The soft voice whispered, her other hand pressing down on her right hip, the one further from the side with the computer, the side closer to her designated cell. "Wait a few moments, the effect should wear off." There was a thumb stroking against her right hip, when her breathing quickened its pace as a reflex of a fear of not controlling her own body.

"I can't, I have to move. Have to-"

"I've got you. Trust me." She recognized the voice, the gentleness in the tone as she tried to stop moving, to listen to the doctor. Maura, she corrected herself. No, she was supposed to be angry at her best friend. But this, the gentle touch against her side, the soft words, this was the Maura that she was familiar with, the one that she was always chasing after, but swallowing her feelings and ignoring them. There was no way that they would ever be together. Even with the factually based doctor earlier that had kidnapped the dark- haired detective and brought her here, Jane still found she couldn't hate the woman. That she would still trust her with her life, the only one that could be trusted with her life. "Let me carry you."

"No. I'll walk." Jane stiffened her legs, swinging them off the table, lifting herself up from the table, rocking slightly before regaining her balance by the arm around her back, holding her steady. She stood up, taller, nodding her head the moment that her body felt as if it was completely under her control once again. The hand on her spine paused, before releasing, and the detective turned towards her. "The one on the left is mine, yes?" The blonde doctor nodded, leading her towards a steel door with only a small window towards the top. It was hand print locked, and Maura rested her palm for a moment, before a light flashed green, and the steel plating disengaged, swinging inward. Jane opened her mouth to say something, when the blonde dropped her eyes, taking a step back. "Maura-"

"Get some rest. Please." Jane nodded, taking the few steps into the room, before the door swung shut behind her, multiple locks sizzling into place. She looked around, noticing that the room was all but barren. There was a mattress, and a dresser, and a single bedside lamp to assist the bright overhead lights. There was an attached bathroom, with a separate door, which she completely ignored in order to lie down on the ice- blue covered mattress. Contrary to what she would have believed, it was actually rather comfortable. Jane linked her hands behind her head, closing her eyes against the blaring lights. The words from the memory, the vision, echoing painfully in the back of her mind. So the artifact her ancestor had been trying to find, in order to even out the war, was not an artifact at all. It, she, was a person. Jane swallowed, rolling onto her side, the detective stared at the wall furthest from the door. It was much too bright in order for her to get anything even remotely similar to rest. Rising again, she brushed her fingers against the wall, locating a switch that she assumed was for the lights, flicking it. The overhead lights darkened, the only light filtering in from a large window that faced the laboratory, the room with the animus, whatever it was. She curled up on the mattress again, facing the far wall. Everything, all of this, was so confusing. And she really couldn't imagine Maura being a part of this, whatever it was. She was much too... Upset, about the whole ordeal. Like she didn't like Jane being here, a part of it, any more than Jane did.

The detective sighed, closing her eyes. The feeling of coming out of the animus, that was what really worried her about the experiment. Even with Hoyt, with every hostage situation she had been a part of, Jane had never felt that out of control, unable to make use of her own body. She suppressed a shiver at the very thought of her own body, her own consciousness becoming something other than herself. She grasped onto the pillow, trying to shake the thought out of her head, unable to.

Maura's hand on her back woke her, making the detective start, jumping up, reaching for her gun only to remember that she didn't have it on her. That it wasn't hers any longer. She swallowed, trying to catch her breath, something that had gotten away from her again. Laying her head back against the pillow once again, Jane opened her eyes, never noticing when she had closed them. Only the desk lamp was on, and the lights outside of the room had been dimmed, if only slightly.

"Why are you here." She managed to whisper out, trying to gain her composure again. Maura's hand slipped off her back, resting awkwardly at her side.

"I brought food." She lowered her eyes briefly, before raising them again to Jane's. Jane swallowed, nodding her head in acceptance, before rolling over again.

"I'm not hungry." She heard Maura's light sigh, knew the woman was upset. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around the blonde and tell her that everything would be alright, even if she didn't know how.

"Please Jane, eat. After the experience of the animus, you're bound to be at least slightly hungry, if not famished beyond-"

"Maura, no. I'm not eating." She was hungry, but she wasn't going to admit it. Not when she was hurting so badly, after the sick joke that this woman had played on her.

"Jane, please-"

"No."

"For me." The word froze in the back of her throat, and the detective found herself nodding, swallowing her indignant reply. She sat up slowly, her back stiff from being so tightly curled up, taking a bowl from Maura's hands. She paused a moment, locking gazes with the blonde woman.

"Have you eaten yet?" The blonde paused, before Jane tilted her head to the warm soup. "Share with me, at least. For me." The blonde nodded slightly, still standing awkwardly beside the bed, gaze diverted downward.

"You were crying out, like with Hoyt." Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

"I know." Jane breathed out, sliding her hand over the edge of the blanket. The mattress shifted with the doctor's weight as she slid closer, resting her hand gently on Jane's forearm, asking before she moved again. The detective made no movement, and she could almost hear Maura thinking about her next reply, before sighing.

"I didn't want to be a part of this." Jane swallowed the warm food, her stomach almost thanking her audibly, before she offered it to Maura, who started to refuse.

"Eat." The doctor did as she was told, still thinking about her next statement, before returning the bowl.

"I didn't want to damn you to this awful experiment." She shook her head, hair shimmering in the dim light. "I had a choice Jane, but-"

"Then why did you do it!" Her voice was so angry, and she regretted it almost immediately, wanting to reach out for Maura, pull her in tightly.

"It wasn't what you think,Jane!"

"Than answer my fucking question, Maura! Why the fuck did you do it!"

"It was either you or your brothers!" The hand slapped over the blonde's mouth made Jane pause, her eyes hardening. "No, Jane. Not the way you think. I didn't mean, not the way it sounded."

"I don't believe you. Get out, Maura. Stay away from me. I never want-"

"The animus will kill you, Jane." She stopped, abruptly, grasping the doctor's face with her left hand.

"The animus will what?"

"Its going to kill you." The tears streaming down Maura's face as she controlled her voice, trying to stay in control of her emotion, failing. "Slowly. Undetectably. You're mind will go, in something only referred to as the Bleeding Effect. You'll stop being you, and then you'll lose not only your mind, but your body." Jane shifted, placing the hot soup on the dresser, before slipping her hands around the doctor's, forcing her to look into dark, chocolate eyes.

"Is that why you chose me, not Frankie, Tommy?"

"I can't lose you Jane." The detective snorted.

"I'm sentenced to death here, Maura." The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her.

"Jane, you would hate me. If your brothers died, how would I live with myself?" The detective's mouth opened to make another sassy death- related comment, when Maura shook her head. "You're strong enough to survive through it. It has been done before. Only once, but I know you can do it, Jane."

"You have too much faith in me." Jane swallowed, shaking her head. "I felt awful, coming out of that machine. That other being. I almost completely lost control of my body, Maura. If you hadn't been there..." She shook her head, lying back again, pulling the blonde down with her, a smaller hand resting on her abdomen, their gazes locking. "Will you be here, Maura? When I die?"

"Always." The word was as light as if it was only a breath, and it meant more than either of them were really ready to admit. Maura's fingers trailed over rock hard muscles, over the other woman's arm.

"Then I'll do it. I'll continue on with this experiment." She swallowed again, securing an arm around Maura's waist, anchoring them together, as if she was frightened that the doctor would get up, that she would leave in the middle of the night. "I'll follow through to the end. As far as I can. For you though, not for him." Maura nodded, slipping one of her hands into Jane's hair, resting the detective's head in the cavern of her neck, holding her close. "Only ever for you. And promise me, Maura. Promise me that no matter what happens, you don't get Frankie or Tommy mixed up in this mess."

"I promise." They were silent for awhile, until Maura was certain that, by the even pattern of Jane's breathing, the lanky detective had drifted off to sleep. The blonde slipped her hand through dark curls, running a thumb down the woman's jawline, before she pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "I promise, I will find a cure for you. I can't let you die, I can't lose you."


	4. 1190 AD, Tyre Templar Stronghold

Iohannes dropped into the lower floor of what he would forever refer to as a torture chamber, if only in his mind rather than out loud. He had been planning to simply find his way into the Templar stronghold located within the city of Tyre, in order to find Venom, to locate the chalice. Nothing could be that simple though, not in the life of an assassin. Never in the life of an assassin. Two of his brethren, an elder assassin, now retired, named Vicente, and a younger assassin known as Barach had both been trapped, and in order to enter the Templar stronghold, he was going to need their help.

Backing into one of the shadows, Iohannes stepped around the back of the tied prisoner, the elder man keeping his gaze trained forward, even though the assassin knew he had been detected. The guard laughed at something he undoubtedly had said, and found hilarious, as Iohannes crept forward, hidden blade prepared. Two more steps and he straightened, jamming the blade through the all- important jugular of the Templar, before dropping the useless body to the cold, unforgiving ground.

"I had not expected the Assassin's Guild to send one after my freedom, I was sure that this place, so dreary and unkempt, would be my death bed, a final resting place for an old man whom had outlived his worth." Iohannes smirked, cutting the binds that kept the man resident of an unfortunately not only uncomfortable, but also made of hard wood, chair.

"Consider it personal initiative." Vicente rubbed his left wrist with his right hand, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.

"It always is, assassin. You have a name?"

"Not for you." The man grinned, nodding, as he bent to pick up the guard's dropped saber, giving it a practice swipe, testing the weight.

"So, where to?"

"Barach. I need you both."

"I understand. A siege on the Templar stronghold sounds as if it is in order. You go get the stupid youth who attempted my freedom nearly a year ago, I'll see you later." Iohannes turned abruptly, hidden blades still prepared even as he failed to understand what the older man was hinting towards, why he was leaving the room.

"Where are you going? I require your assistance with the entrance of the Templar's castle-."

"I'm out to find a nice roof top to perch upon until you arrive, and hopefully it'll be more punctual than you're proving to be, assassin. 'Tis rude to keep an old man waiting, especially for something he's been looking forward to his entire life." With a flick of his hand, the gray- haired man disappeared down the corridor, towards the exit. Iohannes bit back his witty reply, setting his mouth in a grim line before he followed dim corridors further into the prison, crouching above what seemed to be a type of interrogation room. The man there was distinctly an assassin, refusing to say even a word as they lashed into him with a leather whip, cutting into strong, muscled shoulders. Iohannes tossed a knife, not pausing to make sure it hit its mark before springing down from the rafters, breaking the neck of the torturer with an ease that marked much more practice than he would care to admit. Standing, he spun, drawing his saber to parry an attack from a third guard, before stabbing forward with the blade, straight into the gut of the last guard in the room. Bending down, again he found himself sawing at binds, tossing a saber to the other man once he was done.

"An assassin, much like I. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." Iohannes nodded, before crouching in the space beside the door. There were people running towards them, the sound of boots on stone. Iohannes prepared himself, springing on the first, ill- prepared guard, driving his blade into a throat, already preparing for the next well- aimed strike. It was over in a few moments, barely out of breath, the two men standing amidst Templar bodies strewn across the entrance of the room. Barach nodded once, drawing another saber for his left hand, and slipping a dagger into the drawstring belt of his pants for good measure. "Assassins do not come for one another, unless it is something for personal gain... Tell me, the Templar stronghold, is that your hit?"

"Indeed." Barach smirked, nodding.

"With everything else stripped from my name but a simple title, I would enjoy nothing left than a full siege on such a deadly place." He silenced almost immediately, following stealthily through the shadows as they headed to the towering stone building that was their ultimate goal, skipping across rooftops as only they had been trained to do. Iohannes was aware that they moved much like trained partners, one at the other's back, always there, but never heard, merely sensed. Vicente raised a hand to them, rising out of an eagle- like stance on the wall, shrugging towards the massive structure.

"Three is a crowd, one for the left, right and center. Pick a side, my boy, and go to it." Barach tilted his head to the left, grasping Iohannes' hand before he perched upon the edge.

"I thank you for the freedom, Assassin. As is our duty, let us all set forth to take down a stronghold worthy of the honor to enter." Iohannes nodded, readying his throwing knives, and hidden blade as he dropped down into the main foyer. A commotion began on both sides of him, in the wings of the building, guards running to see what both mind consuming ruckus' could possibly be about, and yet he continued forward, pressing onward. Silently taking the lives of the last remaining guards outside the antechamber, Iohannes stepped through cautiously, standing straight as he came face to face once again with another man whom he had met.

"Iohannes, fancy seeing you here once again."

"Enough of your games, information, or your life." His voice was a low growl, nothing but a threat. A threat he would, undoubtedly follow through with.

"Ah, why does one believe I would speak so simply?" The sliding of steel against hide casing rang out, followed closely by the sound of blade upon blade, Iohannes ignoring the burning in his right shoulder as weapon swept through flesh, and then stabbed his own blade through the man's calf. There was a cry, a spiraling of ancient techniques, honed by years of practice. "Enough! Jerusalem- She is in Jerusalem! You're own city, of which you have left unprotected, and that is where she is that we all do seek! Spare my life, for the knowledge imparted upon you. The city of Acre falls as we dally here, yet she is safe in the Holy Land." Iohannes stepped back, eyes hardened.

"I should take one's life that is so much of a monster, but if what you say is true, then not a moment should be wasted that could be better spent to reach the assassins. To choke on one's own blood is too gentle of a fate for one such as yourself, though I suppose it shall suffice for now." With that, the assassin spun, sprinting towards the exit, whistling to his comrades as he aimed for the brightness that was the outside world. Grasping a torch from the wall, the assassin threw it towards the moored ships, smirking in satisfaction as they lit up in flames. He heard as Barach joined him, by way of the roofs, yet it was Vicente he would never hear again.


	5. 1190 AD, Jerusalem

Flying through the air from a catapult was not the way Iohannes had thought he would be traveling to the Holy Land of Jerusalem. Flipping himself over, he landed back- first into a large pile of hay, dead grasses, animal fodder. Thanking the Gods again that he was trained as an assassin, the man slipped out from his hiding place, into the wilderness. Pausing briefly, he grasped onto the nearest horse, a black mare, reining her up onto a path that was heading North towards the larger city. The theif had considered having Barach accompany his efforts, but together they would be much more obvious in the larger city. He wasn't familiar with the streets of Jerusalem, the forms in which the city ebbed and flowed, much like the water at the land's meeting with the sea. He instead was heading towards Masyaf, to the assassins, to show that he was indeed still alive.

Pausing at the gate, he tied the horse, loitering around the edges of the market, waiting patiently. Before Iohannes had really been there long, carefully inspecting a small vase sold by one of the locals, a group of priest- like scholars was traveling through the crowd, people all but parting and bowing in the path. Placing the vase back down carefully, he took a very indirect route towards them, bowing his head as he approached, folding his hands. How this disguise worked so well, He would never really understand. The guise of being a scholar such as these men, it didn't do a thing to hide the split tails of the assassins' robes, or the slightly different color, a darker gray. Oh, and then there was the issue of the weapons. Those were not concealed. So again, how the guards fell for the assassin turned scholar trick, Iohannes would never understand.

Once inside the city, he broke from the group of white- robed scholars, heading down a back alley before grabbing on to the roof, climbing up. The roof was always an easier way to move through the city undetected, and as Iohannes walked across a slim beam onto a conjoining roof top, heading towards the group of solid buildings more towards the center of the city, where he could only assume the Chalice was being kept, were she in Jerusalem as Venom had told him.

"... In the assassin's guild." The thief stopped, crouching down over the edge to listen to the guards' conversation. Anything having to deal with the thieves guild was of interest to the assassin, and he stilled, as if a new addition to the top of the roof, something unable to be removed until the weather had taken its full force out, and possibly not even then.

"You have a rat?" The second guard asked, his voice lowered in a hushed whisper. The first one that had spoken nodded.

"Yes, the one named Crowe." Iohannes backed away from the edge, trying to stay out of sight as he did so. The telltale "Hey, you! Catch him!" Still ran out though, and he took off over the rooftops, sprinting as he did so, careful not to knock anything, displace anything. After another jump across a large gap, he dove into a rooftop garden, crouching below the small gap between wood and curtain. Calming his breathing, remaining completely silent, Iohannes fumed with a hot anger. He knew better than to act upon the feelings, but he couldn't help but to be beyond angry at the mere mention of a rat in the guild, let alone assassin Crowe, the second in command of the guild as a brotherhood. The hot anger cooled, turning into nothing short of a cold, calculate plan. He would have to remedy this situation, there couldn't be a leak from the assassins to the Templar. Such a thing would be nothing short of apocalyptic.

When the commotion outside had settled, Iohannes jumped back out, contemplating his plans as he moved stealthily towards the Templar stronghold. The building was eerily quiet, and he swung through the window, rather than attempt to walk straight within the door. There were too many in here, he knew that. It would be difficult enough to get out with a woman, he didn't need to risk anything while simply trying to enter the place. Before long, Iohannes stayed perched atop a beam crossing directly over the room where they were keeping her. There were twelve guards, three trying to force her to eat, two at every one of the three doors. Then there were some that were simply scattered around the room. She was hooded, in the side, arguing with one of them, when Iohannes drew his knives. If he was careful, he could pull this off, with the least amount of resistance.

Throwing two knives consecutively, he leveled the two by the closest door, jumping down to drive a hidden blade into a third's throat. Picking up speed, he was behind another, repeating the same action before the other Templar had been given enough time to react. His sword flashed out, driving into the first as two others attempted to take on the assassin, who parried effectively in order to split one from the group, lacing the blade through him almost effortlessly. The sound of metal weaponry meeting filled the air, as Iohannes fell into a well- practiced rhythm of blocking and attacking, shifting out of the way as the guards dwindled to none. The last tried to run, yet within a step he had jumped the man, cutting his throat with a short blade, used as effectively as his hidden ones. He then returned to the woman, who had backed away from the fighting, yet had not fled amidst it all. He leaned around the corner of the door, immediately drawing back and looking up. It was the easiest way out, after everything. Pointing to the table, Iohannes offered his hands to help the woman stand on it, before running to the wall. She questioned him briefly, but he ignored the words, running two steps up the stone before grasping on to the rafter, swinging up easily. Overhead, hooking his knees around the support, he reached down for her, lifting her to reach. The door cracked open as the Templar flooded in, looking around incredulously at the carnage. In his birdlike crouch again, the assassin felt a hand on his back, arms slipping around his shoulders.

Despite not having planned this movement, he understood after a moment, knees tightening over his ribs as he crept along the beam. Her weight was slight, and they moved more silently as one being rather than two, the assassin dropping down outside of the walls, resting a hand on her back as she tried to navigate the city streets. Once outside, they paused, for the first time since he had begun calculating everything having to deal with the Templar soldiers. Pale wrists came out from beneath the sleeves of her cloak, and she pushed the hood back from her face, blonde locks falling loose around her shoulders. Iohannes swallowed, he should have known. He should have guessed, or suspected.

"Iohannes, I never thought I would see you again." She sounded almost close to tears, frightened, yet still strong despite it all. The assassin reached out to her, wrapping her in a tighter embrace than he had ever thought possible, clutching the woman to his chest. She had been his best friend, the one whom he had always promised to protect. A woman from a different country, lost in the Holy land, knowing only the assassin and a few spare others. The one he could never have fathomed losing.

"I'm here... Mora."


	6. 1190 AD, Tyre Docks

Walking into the assassin's fortress of Alep, Iohannes knew he was about to break so many more codes than he had ever thought of in his life. He had told the dangerous secret of deception to Barach, whispering it through the wind to the other assassin, but the warning had gone unheeded. Barach, the living assassin, was out hunting a target, and so Iohannes was heading to what had once been his home, in order to finish the job.

He had not planned to return here, to the great towering fortress of Alep. As soon as Mora had fit as perfectly within his arms as he had only remembered late at night when alone, all of his plans had shattered, reforming around the singular idea of never letting her go, ever again. Telling himself he had never needed the perplexing woman for so many years was nothing but a lie. An intricate, glorious lie, and yet a lie none the less. He would change that, and it would be sooner, rather than later, if all things went according to the revised plan.

Iohannes walked into the council chamber of the brotherhood, left- handed blade sliding out with only the slightest whoosh of air, before the other man whirled, holding up his own short blade and assassin's blade in defense. His eyes focused immediately upon Iohannes, the letter he had previously been reading still clutched in one hand. The elite assassin crouched, one hand resting on his own blade.

"It was only a matter of time before someone found out about your deception, Crowe." He hissed, the steel blade light on his side, despite being face to face with one he had considered a brother. "Why did you do it? Why defy the brotherhood?"

"I have no idea what you're-" The other assassin began, before his eyes hardened with the knowledge that the other man knew, that it was useless to lie in a game he was already upon the losing side for. Instead, he dropped the paper, grasping his blades more firmly. "The brotherhood will never rise above the Templar, but die out a slow and painful death. I simply chose the winning side." Without waiting for a another reply, the ranking official sprang forward, Iohannes dropping into a roll, of which he came out of with a precise cut of his sword. Though he had aimed for a lethal strike, the blade caught only the edge of skin along muscled shoulders, blood welling in the wake of the tip. Dodging nearly as effectively as the first time, the ache in Iohannes' leg was only slight as he kicked out at the tender spot behind the man's knees. Both scrabbling for ground, Iohannes stepped down on a wrist, the sound of a blade ripping through leather causing him to change direction, reaching down for the unprotected, hidden blade. Crowe came up, his sword poised to strike, catching the robe on the outside of Iohannes' shoulder, tearing the guard nearly in two. There was a brief moment where their eyes locked, the practicing assassin pushing more of his weight into his superior, bowling them over.

"Perhaps you chose the wrong side." The assassin hissed, driving the assassin's own blade into his neck, blood spraying up into his hand as the body began to shake, limbs falling to the sides. Coming up from his crouch though, the assassin touched the symbol of their brotherhood, muttering a small prayer. At one point, they had been friends, allies. It was simply a kill for necessity, so that the situation did not degrade more. Iohannes reached for the discarded letter, breathing stopping for a fraction of a moment, before he considered cursing the body, reclaiming his prayer. The man was nothing more than a traitor, and never would return to the higher regards in the assassin's heart.

Instead, he ran for the exit of their fortress, jumping on the first horse that he came across. He was needed on the docks of Tyre, for he had already taken too long. He had thought that she would be safe, just outside of the city which housed Alep. But he had been wrong, so very wrong. And if Mora was taken from Iohannes even so much as one more time, he would stop at nothing to get her back. Not pausing for anything, he slipped from the horse's back, landing in a sprint towards the Templar ship, the one with high sails proclaiming for all who were there. He grasped onto the nearest rope, walking quickly along the tender thread and dropping onto a platform along the side. The latter fell quickly beneath his hands, jumping up onto the deck, slipping into the shadows. He needed to find Venom, rescue Mora. It could be done, and he would be the one to do it. Jumping the guard he came across, the assassin continued on until he was inside the captain's quarters, the man he was searching for bent over a map, as if he was studying it. Venom looked up, smirking.

"Took you long enough, Iohannes ibn- Inshallah. You're supposed to be the best of the assassins, and yet..." He let the statement fade, as Iohannes drew his short blade, readying it.

"Where is she?"

"What makes you think I would tell you?" The assassin crouched, before their blades crackled in meeting. The exchange was not brief, circling around one another before the assassin saw his opening, parrying a strike before he jumped, swinging the blade at the right angle, feeling as, with a crack, the steel cut through flesh and bone, severing the head of his target from the rest of the body. As the form crumpled, Iohannes sheathed the blade, before running back out on the ship. From the deck, his attention was stolen by yet another just like it, flying the same flags.

"Iohannes!" The female shriek, cutting his attention to the deck, sharpened gaze training on her. He paused at the side, knowing immediately that, although being a strong swimmer, he would never be able to catch the vessel. He was worthless, could never save her, had never been able to. He could imagine the hope in her eyes, as she tried to get away from the Templar, watching the immobile assassin. But he was cold, calculating, and he threw his hands out, towards her.

"I promise you, Mora! One day, I _will_ find you!"


	7. 6th November 2012, Jane's Cell

When Jane's heartbeat changed, increasing rapidly, it was Maura's call to bring her out of the animus. The detective's eyes snapped open as soon as the memory ended, and she immediately tried to turn, tried to locate the doctor. Her breathing came in short pants, and she was still shaking from the experience, as she grasped on to the blonde's shoulders.

"Put me back in there!" She all but shouted, Maura's gaze growing worried, almost immediately. "I have to... I need to know. Please." Maura shook her head this time, Jane trying to calm her breathing, calm everything. She, Iohannes, her ancestor, whatever, had been... She couldn't explain it. One of her arms wrapped around Maura's shoulders, bracing her there. "Please." the Italian woman begged, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I can't Jane, You've been in there far too long already." Maura's hands braced around her back, rising as one. "You need to rest, rather than push the experience in the animus. Come on, I'll help you."

"No... No, its alright. I'll walk. I can walk." She left her arm wrapped around the doctor's waist though,, threading one hand through her dark curls. She knew that her friend would never change her mind, especially not when it came to something with e medical basing, something like this. But Jane, she needed to know. She had to know if Iohannes had ever found... Mora... If he ever found Mora again. She swallowed, dropping onto the mattress, grasping onto Maura's hand.

"Jane, I have to-."

"No. Please stay." She understood the way the man felt, she felt the same way about the doctor, about being unable to have this person leave her life, be taken from her. Much like Iohannes, she would not rest until she found Maura again, and if she never did, Jane would simply cease to be. She would no longer be alive, in any sense of the word. "Please, don't leave." A low whisper, barely audible. Maura swallowed visibly, slipping her hand out of Jane's before resting both around her jaw, making sure their gazes remained locked.

"I won't go far. I'll be just on the other side of the wall, Jane. I'm going to make us all dinner, and then when Doyle leaves, I'll come right back in." She paused, as if waiting, before Jane nodded slightly. Maura waited a moment, before releasing her friend, turning only to pause again, briefly at the door. "Jane," The blonde turned around, to find the detective's eyes had never strayed away from her. "I would never, ever leave you."

"Maura..." The doctor smiled a bit, stepping through the door, which locked behind her, flashing red before dimming. She turned towards the window, able to barely see the top of the blonde's head as she traveled over to her computer, and after awhile of watching her, Jane did manage to fall asleep. Maura however, was a different story. She glanced over the notes of previous tests using an animus, looking for anything she could possibly use as a cure, something, anything, to save Jane. She bit down on her lip, watching her biological father as he analyzed the memory that had filtered through the animus, wracking her brain for even the slightest clue to help Jane. When Jane had come to this time, it had almost been different, as if she was not completely certain which world was real, the one here, or the one inside of the animus. Maura tried to restrain her growing depression, she would not be able to watch Jane, not as she deteriorated mentally. No, that was about as close to a lie as the doctor could get, without breaking out into hives and hyperventilating. She would never leave Jane, even a psychotic, mentally insane Jane Rizzoli. Watching silently as Doyle left, Maura reached over to shut down the lights, turning back into her room briefly, grabbing clothes. With the pile of laundry in hand, she also grabbed her shampoo, having moved everything but Bass into the lab as soon as she had conned Jane into coming here. She paused at the door to the conjoined bathroom within the brunette's cell, contemplating closing the door, before she thought better of it. She couldn't cut off contact with the detective on even the smallest scale.

Stepping back out after her shower, the doctor was almost relieved to find that the detective was still asleep. Moving carefully in an effort not to wake the other woman, she crawled up onto the mattress, resting her head on the strong shoulder, running a hand down the toned bicep.

"I'm sorry." The whisper almost caught her off guard, though somewhere inside she had known that there was no way Jane was really asleep.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Only about five minutes. I could hear you." Maura sighed as a hand slipped through her hair, stroking slowly.

"Why are you sorry?" Maura tilted her chin up, before leaning up on one elbow, looking down at the detective, locking eyes. "Jane, why would you ever be sorry, especially to me?"

"I just... I acted really off earlier, it was uncalled for." Maura paused, her eyes soft.

"What is it like, Jane?" The detective pause, trying to make sense of the question, before Maura clarified again. "Inside the animus, I mean. What is it like. Please tell me."

"Maura, its... Its intense. I don't know how else to explain it." She whispered, eyes shining, emotion flashing through her eyes.

"So you were just seeing the memories?" Jane shook her head.

"No, no. I didn't just watch them, like some observer. I was there, Maura." She ran a hand through her hair, looking up at the blonde. "I wasn't watching Iohannes, I was Iohannes. It was like we were one being, that I had become part of him. And Maura, I was seeing the world as he did, living through him. I mean, like, I met people. I saved people."

"You save people too, Jane." Maura giggled, unable to keep the smile from her face as Jane recounted the experience that she had only been watching earlier. "So, who did you save, in the memory?"

"Well, believe it or not, Iohannes and I, we saved Korsak and Frost. It was awesome. We held this huge, full scale siege in order to take the Templar fortress." She paused, her breath shaking as she exhaled. "Korsak didn't make it out. Frost went back to the city of Masyaf, to report to the assassins. I went to rescue the Chalice."

"I was watching." Maura sighed. "It sounds so amazing, and I can't imagine meeting someone as amazing as that woman-"

"She was your ancestor." Maura paused, blinking rapidly. Jane nodded. "Yea, I know."

"Iohannes... She was taken away from him. They were best friends. Oh God, I couldn't imagine..."

"So you don't feel the emotional aspect of the Animus, only the images?" Maura nodded, and the detective sighed, laying her head back. She didn't know rather to be relieved or upset that the doctor hadn't felt the depth of her feelings. Without saying anything, Maura laid back down, tucking her arm around the detective, her best friend, tucking her head into the woman's neck.

"Don't worry about anything like that, Jane. I will never leave you. Never. No one could ever take me away from you, living or dead." Jane nodded slightly, rubbing away at the stray tear that had slipped down her cheek.

"I know." She tightened their embrace briefly, before trying to relax into sleep once again. But the detective, she still wasn't sure whether to be happy, or to be sad... Maura simply didn't know she loved her.


	8. 1191 AD, Jerusalem

Iohannes stood before the leader of the brotherhood, his wrists bare, not bearing the secret blade of the assassins, his hip in the same state, bare of the short blade that had been his for years. He had made so many mistakes, and yet, for so long, he had not been caught. That changed, only once, and he was demoted, dropped down to the rank of a novice. Running through Masyaf had seemed to take forever, rough housing, eavesdropping, trying to reclaim what little bit of honor the blades represented. It had not been an effort in vain, as the assassin handed over a letter he had picked from the pocket of a target assigned to him from the brotherhood, to his leader. The man nodded.

"Iohannes ibn- Inshallah, do you regret your actions that went behind the creed?"

"Yes." He regretted nothing. The assassination had failed, that was why he had been caught. But he would never regret trying to rescue her, even nearly seven years since she had been taken away on that ship, belonging to the Templar Order. She would never forgive him if he gave up on a dream, and so he wouldn't. Iohannes, the greatest assassin, would continue searching.

"There are nine targets, the first of which is in Jerusalem. Meet with the Rafique there, to gain intelligence on the stronghold you are infiltrating. Go forth Iohannes." The assassin grasped onto his blade, sheathing it quickly, before reverently strapping on the glove to his left hand. For all things that he was upset about, this time around he at least hadn't had to get a finger removed. It had been painful enough the first time, no need for the procedure to be repeated. Bowing his head slightly, the assassin turned on a heel towards the city of Masyaf. He would have to make haste to Jerusalem, and then break away for the sole purpose of finding her, his best friend. The woman he loved. He never should have left her, those years ago in the Holy City. Outside the gates, Iohannes grabbed the first horse he came to, mounting up carefully and withdrawing his short blade. It felt good to wield the weapon again, even though it had only really been a week since he had lost it. It had been one long week for the assassin, cooped up in only Masyaf, rather than being relatively free to travel the many cities. He would not, however, ever return to Tyre. All it did was make him angry, and then way too many people died by his hand.

Stopping again outside the gates of Jerusalem, Iohannes pat his horse, tethering her to the stake with the others. Perhaps, one day, he would leave the land of Israel, travel to a different area. He rather hoped so. Pausing by another merchant, he picked up a ceramic vase, looking at the item carefully, before moving on. The most heartbreaking part of Mora being taken away from him was that he had no way of knowing where they had gone, nothing of hers. Her scent and image was only a fading wisp within his mind, and yet he would never give up on such a memory. Traveling to another merchant only two stalls down, he joined into a group of scholars once again, bowing his head as if in reverence, watching the Templar guards out of the corners of his eyes. Old tricks really never did die easily, this one, for instance, still had yet to outlive its purpose even slightly.

Swinging up onto the rooftops, Iohannes made his way directly towards the Assassin's Burrow, not daring to pause for long in the city. Guards here were strict when it came to assassins, still being overseen by the Templar Order, even after all this time. It was one of the few, yet massive, ways that the Order remained so strong, whereas there were many less assassins. Dropping down from the roof into the building, Iohannes pulled back his hood, approaching the Rafique. He paused, before a smirk found its way across his features. The assassin approached the desk, before the other looked up, unable to keep from grinning.

"Barach!"

"Iohannes!" They clasped hands over the desk, before the working assassin stepped back.

"I was wondering where you got to. They retired you here? Not bad. Many of them would kill for the honor of Rafique of Jerusalem." He shrugged, closing the ledger that he had been looking over previously.

"A glorified way of allowing me to boss around the assassins that come into the city." He held out a feather, balancing the brown and white garment of the eagle on his fingertips. "I'm supposed to make you go around and gather planted evidence, which you'll have to do in both Acre and Demascus. I however, miss the field greatly, and the influx of assassins here has been extremely low." Holding the feather out, Barach nodded his head. "The main square is where you should find your target. He is one of the leading Templar in the city."

"Its been good to see you, Barach."

"Yea, yea. Never leave the field, Iohannes. Its pretty awful. Even if there is more honor in the work." Iohannes smirked, tilting his head to the side coyly.

"I was never a big believer in honor." The other man laughed.

"Don't we know it. Don't we know it, Iohannes! Good luck to you!" The assassin waved halfheartedly with one hand, jumping swiftly back up the wall to the outside, to the main city. It really was a beautiful city, and for a moment, the assassin wondered how he could ever fathom leaving. And then before he could travel down such a dangerous thought process, he jumped over the rooftops, towards a large gathering just where Barach had guessed, in the center of the marketplace of Jerusalem. Climbing down carefully, Iohannes took an empty space on a nearby bench, secret blade sliding out of its catch as he waited through the last grueling minutes of a speech he cared little for, following the red- garment wearing Templar as he walked towards a small stall, a peddler woman selling her wares. I paused behind him, before stabbing my blade up through vital organs, bracing his body with my own to lower him towards the ground.

"Why..." The Templar garbled out, voice slurred from the blood in his throat already.

"Assignments, by means of the brotherhood. For honor now, I suppose."

"Honor... A worthy cause." The man drew a gasping breath. "In death, there are no secrets, assassin. Only regrets. Remember that, when it is your time to die." He grasped a chain around his neck, the sign of the Templar Order. "Eden... To you I come."

"Rest in peace, brother." The assassin rose, withdrawing his blades as he sprinted for the rooftops. The others were chasing him, he would have to get away, hide from the Holy city for a long while. The sadness of death gripped around his heart; people themselves were not evil, only their ways, the side that they chose in an everlasting war, pit against one another for reasons they did not understand, perhaps did not even know. He knew that this was only the beginning of his quest, that it would be a long and difficult journey, and steeled himself against the feelings that would rise forth from the tide of such a war.


	9. 1191 AD, Masyaf

Iohannes jumped, arm drawing back in a lethal, venomous last strike as gravity itself brought him to his target. He launched forward, blade burying itself in the man's neck as they fell to the ground as one, rather than two. His ninth target, the last one. For the Brotherhood, he would be held in high regard once more.

"Congratulations." The Templar whispered sarcastically, his head held up only by Iohannes' hand, rather than his free will. "You're late though... There were... Ten."

"Ten?" The assassin asked, his brow knitting as he processed the meaning behind such a statement. "Pieces of Eden? The artifacts you are searching for?"

"No..."

"What then!" He nearly shouted. "Tell me!"

"Or what, want to kill me, boy?" The Templar attempted a dry chuckle, coughing blood instead. "I suppose it is only fair... You have been deceived..."

"Deceived, brother? By whom?"

"A brother... In your guild." Iohannes felt the icy grip of fear gripping his stomach. "Brother... Yes. We were always fighting on the same side, only neither of us... Ever knew it."

"I don't understand. Please, explain."

"You must kill him... The Templar..." His eyelids drooped, the Templar attempted to snap to attention. "Your... Leader..." The word fell from his lips as a sigh, Iohannes resting his head on the cold ground, wrapping his sword beneath his right hand, as a soldier would, before he whispered an ancient prayer over the man's body. The Templar were not right, but if what the older man had said to the wind, their leader was a part of the Templar Order too. As for that same team business, he could only assume that it was in reference to the pieces of Eden, or rather, the Apple of Eden, an artifact that had to have been destroyed, for it was too powerful. Swinging up into the rafters, the assassin called down a hawk, sending it out to the one person he knew would send him aid, regardless of the circumstances. Sneaking out of the city, he refused to look back, refused to see what he had done. Instead he mounted up on a horse, his black mare from so many months before, the one that had been dutifully running between all four of the major cities in the kingdom.

"We're going home, Lady." The assassin whispered, bending low over her neck as she flew down the curvacious path, putting as much effort into her job as she had in the very beginning. Something things never changed, even as the world seemed to fall apart around them. "Back to Masyaf." There were many points in which they slowed, in which his horse ducked her head in, as if they were simple merchants, blending with the crowds. Normally, these times would be ones spent thinking, reviewing information gathered from jobs well created. This? This was not one of those times. Iohannes tried not to think of anything, anything at all. Instead, he focused on the blur of the landscape as it flew by, nearly faster than the assassin's eye could make out. The land was beautiful, in the Kingdom. He could really care less though, stopping outside of the gates of Masyaf. He had a mission now, nothing else really mattered. The darker skinned rafique stood up from a bench, pulling his hood up over his head as he did so, blade glittering beneath the missing finger of his left hand. "Barach."

"Iohannes." They clasped hands, before looking into the city. "They're under some sort of control, many of them. Those loyal to the creed are going to be a distraction, while you go in for Cavanaugh." The assassin nodded, signaling the start of such a simple plan. Jumping immediately to the rooftop, it was no surprise to see something that closely resembled an army, marching towards the gates of Masyaf. An army of white- coated assassins, heading towards the smaller number of those who had once been their brethren. Yet they seemed as if they were only shells of their previous selves. Shells, not the people themselves. Iohannes crept onward though the city that had once been his home with only one purpose, swinging up into the main room of the assassins' fortress, standing straight as he focused on who had once been his master.

"Cavanaugh."

"Iohannes ibn- Inshallah." The name came out in a growl. "Your honor has been restored-"

"My honor was never lost due to words of yours." The glimmering sphere in his hands caught the assassin's attention, and he let the dark chocolate orbs narrow. "The Apple of Eden, I should of known you already had it within your possession."

"I didn't, until your seventh target. You gave me the information to discover its whereabouts, to rescue such a brilliant item from the clutches of a deserted, desolate tomb. I thank you, Iohannes."

"There is nothing to thank me for, it won't be in your clutches for long." The assassin drew his sword with the merest fraction of a second between the motion and the meeting of two blades. The orb glowed, pulsing slightly The ex- master of the brotherhood growled in what seemed to frustration.

"Why is it, that you can not be controlled?!"

"The Creed, I remain loyal to the Assassin's Creed." There was a long moment where swords clashed, before Iohannes whirled, stabbing downward with his hidden blade, driving it into the jugular of the man. It was climactic, and anti- climactic at the same time. It was almost like the end of a journey that had really yet to begin. Iohannes crouched beside the crippled man, pulling a feather from his belt, wiping the blood of his enemy upon it.

"The Apple... Its..." The piece had dropped to the ground, rolling just out of reach of the elder assassin. "There are more. More than one. Two others- this one shall show the... Locations. Use it wisely." He sighed. "Go forth, God be willing."

"Inshallah, brother." Iohannes stood, grasping the apple, which almost immediately brought up a map, and something so much more. He narrowed his eyes. There was so much more to this story, so many more pieces. But the Apples, they were too strong. They had to be destroyed, and quickly. Turning, the man closed his eyes, the image of the map burned there, as he dropped the piece, only listening as it shattered. Readying his blade, he turned back towards a silent Masyaf. He was still an assassin, and he still had a job to do.


	10. 8th November 2012, Jane's Cell

Jane breathed out, trying to calm her nerves. She couldn't help but feel relieved that there were memories to live out, still. She was curious, and it was almost as if she knew that Iohannes, the assassin from her blood line, had more still to teach her. As if he had more to say, more that she absolutely had to see. Perhaps more to tell her, but of that she was not completely certain. Beyond all shadow of a doubt, however, the detective knew that there was more to the story of the artifacts, the ones that had caused her and Maura to be stuck in this entire situation. The doctor's hand rested on her elbow, a warmth that was both comforting and questioning in the same few moments. Jane turned her palm upwards, waiting for Maura's hand to slide into her own before stroking her knuckles softly. Taking another deep breath, she opened her eyes, nodding the barest little bit.

"The map- You've found it! A novelty, the pieces of Eden." Jane whipped her head to the side. "Suppose you don't have to go through with-"

"Iohannes destroyed his Apple." Her voice was raspy, as if she was exhausted, which was a pretty accurate description.

"The Apple... I had thought it only a legend." The older man rose, shutting his computer and packing it into the desk, which he then locked. "Very well. I will seek out the locations on the map, while you continue with your work here. Maura, to the conference room." Jane swung her legs off of the metallic table, cracking her back before she locked eyes briefly with the blonde doctor. Maura, her best friend, the flawless, perfect woman, looked as though she was fighting between an onslaught of feelings ranging from extreme sadness, to something Jane could only describe as a pure form of rage.

"Get some rest." She whispered, the dark- haired detective nodding. She rose slowly, if slightly unsteadily, and Maura still waited, ever patiently, beside her until she confirmed that she was alright. Walking into the dim room that made up her cell, the detective glanced out the glass window, watching the other two as they disappeared into a conference room. Grabbing a piece of paper from the desk, and a pen, she disappeared into the bathroom, sketching the map she had seen, marking the three places marked on it. Opening one of the drawers she slipped the piece into a gap in the drawer. Iohannes destroyed one, there were three more to go. She had to know, had to make sure that whatever happened, Maura stayed safe. The Apples had to be destroyed. They were too dangerous.

Laying down on the bed, Jane stared up at the ceiling. The blonde was going to be angry, she knew. And if anything, Jane completely understood why. She could have kept her mouth shut, they could have left. Closing her eyes again, Jane imagined a different scenario. Perhaps last Christmas, when she had the perfect opportunity to tell Maura, reaching up to get the angel on her tree, tight pants hugging every dip and curve of her legs, camisole hugging her perfect torso, how much she loved her. How the detective had thought that she would have more than enough chances to tell her again, and she could let this one slide, live in the moment. Jane felt a tear trail down her cheek. How very wrong she had been.

The sliding of the door caused her to shift, tilting her head to the side, locking eyes with Maura. The blonde paused, before she caught Jane by the shoulders, dragging her up, shaking her. Tears were all but pouring down her cheeks, running down pale cheeks.

"What did you do? Jane, what did you do?!"

"Maura-"

"He would have let you go. You would have been free, Jane. You wouldn't be stuck here, dying." The detective reached out, cupping her best friend's face in her hands.

"For how long though, Maura? The map he saw, Iohannes was trying to destroy the pieces. He succeeded with the first one." She let her voice drop deeper, to a hushed whisper. "And what about you?"

"I don't matter-"

"Don't you dare." She paused, hazel eyes watering, widening in shock. "Don't ever say that. Please."

"Jane, you could have gotten away from him. I... I can't. He's my father." She curled up on the mattress, strong arms wrapping tightly around her as they shifted, lying down to face one another. "I... I can't get away."

"Where is he now?"

"Looking for the Pieces of Eden. From now on, its both of us, locked in here. God, Jane, I'm killing you, I-" Jane silenced her, shaking her head slightly.

"Maura, I swear, I will find a way for you to get out of this. I swear it. We'll figure this out, alright? Together." The blonde smiled, wiping gently at her tears, resting one hand on Jane's abdomen, tracing hardened muscles there. The detective pulled her in, burying her nose into blonde waves.

"When you say it Jane," She breathed so lightly that the detective nearly missed the words. "I actually believe you." The Italian woman smirked, brushing her fingers over the woman's spine, holding her closer than she had ever really dared.


	11. 1193 AD, Cyprus

"I can't fucking stand this, what are you doing? Where are you going?" The assassin sighed, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling in a vain effort to try and calm his temper for another long few moments. This woman, why had he saved her? Right, because he had recognized something in her, some slight connection that marked them as one in the same. He recognized her, not as a Templar, but as a person, and thus her neck had been one worthy of saving. Or so he had thought, before she had started annoying the man more than he had ever thought possible. Perhaps, if Barach had still been a field assassin, they would have been partners. Then he would never have saved this woman, and he wouldn't regret one of the worst decisions of his life right at the moment. And there could have been glorious silence. "You haven't answered me."

"Cyprus." The answer was little more than a snap, short, sarcastic. He hoped that would be the end of her relentless questioning, but the assassin could simply never be that lucky, not by a long shot.

"Why? I demand that you tell me." He felt his eye twitch, as if her demands were of any concern to him. He had saved her escaping, annoying ass far too many times to be of use to him in the long run, and quite honestly, he had dropped subtle hints that she should go away. But alas, a woman other than his Mora would never understand him. He tried to shake the thought of the blonde- haired beauty, for his stomach clenched whenever he thought of her, as if something awful had happened. As if he missed something that he should have been there for.

"I don't have to explain anything to you, other than that I require the journey to Cyprus."

"Its the rumor about the Apple there, isn't it. Hah. Knew it, you assassins are just like the Templar. Except more annoying."

"Annoying, look at the one winding her leaden tongue around the word." He drew his throwing knives, taking out one guard that had been standing, oblivious of the people who stowed away in the ship as it docked. He couldn't do this for much longer, and when they had finally stepped foot upon the Isles, he would be nothing short of elated. The voices above them faded a bit, and the assassin crouched, heading towards the exit, careful. He didn't need to kill everyone, or anyone really. All that could do was give them more initiative to seek him out, and on an Island this tiny compared to the mainland, that was not something that Iohannes wanted to be a part of. Instead, he fell into a crouch, slipping through the shadows with one of his own following closely.

"It should be in the west tower." He turned his head, eyes narrowing. "The Apple. What? You pretend to give a shit about a ranking official of the Templar Order, and you don't want information? I'd rather not die, thank you." The sarcastic woman spit out, but the assassin recognized the feeling behind her words, and despair was the only thing that crept into his heart at the belated realization. She was falling for him. Yes, Iohannes should have definitely let her die. Mora, Mora was his only love. It would only ever be that way. His heart had already been stolen by another, his very soul tied to her.

"Sounds like an interesting lead to follow up on." Heading into the main stronghold of the isle, he motioned for her to stay hidden, climbing up the spire of a watchtower, putting a blade through the guard at the top efficiently. Moving out on a slim beam, the assassin took in the sight as a man in the place of a bird, knowing almost immediately that the only place the Templar would have thought adequate enough to hold the Apple would have been the castle, one of the towers. He dove off, flipping a part of the way down to the ground, landing on his back in the hay. When he rose, it was stealthily, heading back to Marta. "I agree with your confidence, the only place the Templar would have hidden the Apple would have been in the castle."

"The armory is in one of the towers, so it could be either of the other three."

"Negative, the quarters of the leader here will be in one of the towers as well."

"That is a valid point, Iohannes. I hadn't thought of such things." The assassin held his tongue as he reflected on the obvious fact that she had not thought of such a thing. She may have been a Templar, but she seemed to lack the thoughtfulness of one.

"Wait here."

"I can get you into the castle, be a distraction. I am not completely useless, you know." He tilted his head, weighing the options before securing his hands behind his back. She grasped onto his wrists with one hand, almost gently, rather than with her usual force. The assassin hung his head, as if he had been defeated, and they approached the guarded doors of the castle of Cyprus. The guards hollered, and she led them on, saying close to nothing about the situation that had ended up in such a situation, all but walking right into the main holds of the castle. Iohannes glanced around, when they entered a dim hall, his wrists being released as he ran quickly up the wall, flipping up onto the rafters easily. She followed quickly, reaching up for a hand, which he offered out of reflex.

"I'll take the east towers, you take the west. Be careful, assassin." He nodded, jumping across a small gap between the beams before he turned.

"You as well, Marta." There was a short silence, before the assassin turned back for the sole purpose of the job. He had one thing to do, he couldn't spend his time worrying about a woman, even if she was helping him. If she got herself killed, well, it would be a distraction, and it wouldn't weigh all that heavily on his mind. Instead, the assassin headed towards the south tower, slipping silently into the door of a fully stocked armory. With little more than a sigh, he backed out just as quietly, lifting himself up into the rafters to head to the northern tower. As he stepped upwards, he could hear people talking. A guard station, not a room that he wanted to frequent. Glancing through the door as one entered, he could see what could only be described as barracks. There was no sign of the relic, the Apple. Iohannes paused, when he made out the sound of voices.

"Well, the Captain hasn't told us where the Apple is, but he did say that the woman is off limits for us. Seems to want her for something special, not that I blame him." There was laughing, and the assassin focused, waiting. "The pretty one, blonde and green eyed. Gods damn, she'd be a fun one to-" Iohannes turned, stepping quickly across the beams, swinging across the ones hanging over the servant's quarters, dropping down into the kitchen. There was only a slim chance that it would be her, but there was still a chance. The assassin ducked down a steep set of stairs, turning down a dim corridor. He could only barely hear his own steps, let alone any other's as he crept quickly down the paths. Turning left, the assassin stopped. It was the door to something that he had seen before in large keeps, even the one in Masyaf. It was something that would correlate completely with a torture chamber, and the assassin steeled himself, pushing the heavy door open just a crack, slipping through before desiding to leave the door cracked, rather than pull it shut. If he had to escape, it would be much too inconvenient to move the heavy barricade, and it wasn't likely that he would be found down here. Looking up, the assassin recognized human remains held up in various cages of various sizes. Moving to the cages in the back, he paused, recognizing the garbs of an assassin, whispering a short blessing to him even as he continued on. Abruptly, Iohannes stopped, before approaching the crumpled figure slowly. Her head was bowed down, her wrists pulled up and out, as if she had been crucified. Iohannes swallowed, her hair was a dark gold, falling in waves to what appeared to be the middle of her back if she had been standing. Her legs were twisted, locked together even then, dirt and bruising coloring what appeared to have been paler skin. "Mora?" There was no movement, the assassin kneeling carefully, reaching to her hands, running his larger ones down her arms softly, pausing at her chin before tilting up. Her eyes, they had been so beautiful, at once a bright green. Iohannes swallowed his gasp, running his thumb over her paled lips, over her cheek. He couldn't stop the tears, but the sobs were neither loud, nor all- encompassing. He should have known. Should have guessed. The assassin rested a hand on the wall beside her, tracing the lashing down her torso, the open wounds that showed both flesh and bone, now darkened with only a slight bit of age. He had been too late, had failed. "Gods, I'm so sorry." He whispered, to no one in particular. Engaging the hidden blade on his wrist, the assassin reached forward for one of her hands, slicing the coiled rope and lowering it to the woman's side. "I'm here now, I'll still take care of you." The movement shifted her ribcage, and a slight glint caught his eyes, made him pause, before cutting down the other wrist, freeing her to lay her down on the ground.

"Hey. What's wrong?" The soft voice alerted him, as he tilted his head to the strange glinting again. "Who... Who is she, Iohannes?"

"Her name's Mora. Help me move her to that table there. Lay a sheet down. A clean one." The woman scavenged around, flipping a slightly bloodied sheet over the steel table as he lifted her, laying her out carefully. "Marta-"

"Its the cleanest."

"I understand. I was going to say thanks. Don't jump."

"You knew her."

"Those clamps over there. Yes, I knew her." With careful hands, he maneuvered a throwing knife in order to make a rough Y- incision, before driving down carefully through muscle, pushing back the skin with the clamp that Marta had handed him.

"What are you- oh my."

"Always had so many secrets." The assassin whispered, cracking her ribs with the hidden blade, gazing at the glowing gold object.

"Its in place of her heart. Gods damn everything, this is awful." Iohannes simply nodded, before turning to look at her.

"Keep watch outside." She rested a hand on his forearm, pausing.

"You don't have to break it, you know. I would never ask you to shatter the heart of someone whom you loved so... So deeply. No one ever could." She turned, heading out the heavy door, waiting silently, as he lifted the object. Iohannes had never expected to come to a decision, where the future of the world rested solely in his hands.


	12. Inside the Animus, Iohannes Inshallah

Jane blinked. Everything was so bright. She didn't remember it being this bright, the room where the Animus had been kept. She blinked again, before she attempted to stand, and for the first time her legs didn't hurt. She looked to the side, looking for Maura, only to see white space, crackling with greyish blue lines, as if she was trapped inside of a computer- like device. The detective jumped up, spinning slowly, taking in the entire world. There was nothing here, nothing but negative space.

"Maura? Maura!" She called out. There was a fear so raw, deep down in her stomach that she felt slowly creeping over every nerve and sense. Was this it? Was this the end? Had she really failed to survive long enough to save Maura, to get the blonde doctor out of this mess? No, Jane couldn't help but sob inwardly. She couldn't have failed. She couldn't desert Maura like that. She opened her mouth to speak again, to call out for her best friend again, and again, until she found her, when emotions washed over her. She was conflicted, didn't know exactly how to feel.

"I couldn't believe that I had failed." The voice, Jane recognized the voice, the anguish that came forth inside of her mind, from deep within her heart. "There were so many things that I had been so unable to believe in my life, but failing the one person that I had promised to save? I had never thought to see the day such a promise would be made." He was still kneeling on the ground, hands forward as if they were clasping something important, and Jane rose to her feet, moving silently towards the dark- haired man. "I never expected her to drop so unexpectedly into my life. Never meant to fall in love with her. But such things happen regardless of who one is, and what they do." He looked up, and two sets of chocolate eyes locked into place. "I don't know why I would say this, but perhaps it shall be recorded that I have failed. That, for the first time, I regret not moving fast enough, not trying hard enough." Moving his right hand, he held it out, and curious, Jane moved hers to a mirroring position, their palms touching, as if a piece of glass was the only thing that separated the two of them, not a distance of more than time. He was shaking, grief flooding forward from the assassin to the detective. "I was not always a heartless assassin, and perhaps I will never be again. I can not say such things for certain, however, and so I would only have much simpler things to speak to the Apple." The assassin smiled sadly. "If I was to give advice, I would tell the younger ones following my blood that they would find their soul mate once again, perhaps many years in the future, as a different person. And I would tell them that they could never let her go. Never release her hand even once, never lose a woman who's spirit was so wonderful that it stole the very breath from their lungs and the very beating of their heart. That would be my only advice to them." He shook his head. "This may be nothing more than a man's dreams, spoken to a dead artifact, but it was one made from her heart. So if you, a person much like myself, ever find yourself in such a complicated, similar situation, do not regret what you have not done. Tell her. Its only three words. Though they may be difficult, all you need say is how you feel, the fatal attraction that has wound the threads of fate around two beings. Stay with her, right to the cusp of death, and never leave her side." Iohannes narrowed his eyes, as if he could actually see Jane, not only speaking to the orb that was the Apple of Eden. He leaned forward slightly, and she could see the gold sphere, could feel as he made a promise to himself that this one, and only this one, would never be broken. That it was the only thing that tied him to Mora still, the Apple forged from her heart. "Tell her...Tell her you love her."

Jane opened her mouth, as if to speak, when the white around her seemed to crack, splitting. The assassin fell away, the detective reaching forward in vain, as if he could tell her how to carry out such a task, finish the memories of his life, tell her what he meant by such cryptic messages. She wanted to know so many things, how he had known that she would be there to listen to his wisdom, to be in the same predicament, only on a larger, more dangerous scale. But before she could even whisper his name, the world around her shattered, raining as if made of shards of glass.


	13. 9th November 2012, Jane's Cell

Maura rubbed her eyes, shaking her head at the numbers and movements of the screen before her. Everything was normal, as far as normal extended over someone who was experiencing an event that must have been nothing less than exhilarating. She wondered, if only briefly, what sort of adventure Jane was embarking upon beneath the mask of her ancestor. But the blonde smiled, knowing that the detective would tell her every excruciatingly miniscule detail that she asked for, glossing over the pieces that she knew that Maura didn't wish to hear about, or simply didn't know herself. They had done what she had thought close to impossible, in just a few short days. They had gotten closer. Jane wouldn't even sleep unless Maura was in the room, pressed up against her, touching her. She leaned on her elbow, watching the fluctuating levels of brain chemicals as they shifted for only a moment longer, before tilting her head just enough to watch Jane. The woman, she didn't even know what reactions she caused in the doctor. A tear slid through the closed lids, and the medical examiner reached over, resting her thumb on the soft cheek, before flicking it away gently. There was a brief moment, where the woman paused, simply watching the detective as she relived an experience that, weeks ago, they could have imagined only in the most illogical dreams. She opened her mouth, as if to speak to the slumbering detective, perhaps to tell her one of her only secrets, the only thing that she had managed to lie to herself about for so very long, when the erratic spike in sound from the monitor caught her attention.

"Jane!" Maura cried out, turning the computer with her far hand, typing a short code and snapping up multiple windows. There was no memory, Maura noticed almost immediately. There was no memory, but it was as if Jane was still recalling an event that happened, as if she was still a part of something that was happening within the animus. "Jane, Jane!" Maura typed furiously, glancing up as electric blue coding flashed up on the screen, attempting to get the animus to shut itself off. When the error message flashed up on screen, she cursed audibly. "Jane, don't you dare leave me. Jane!" The levels spiked again, and Maura ducked around the table, opening up the second computer system that monitored what the detective was seeing inside of the machine. "Come on, Jane. Where are you?" The screen blinked a bit, before turning white, spider- like gray cracks flickering about in blueish tones, the sound of the woman's vitals rising a bit more, as if spiked by adrenaline, before suddenly dropping back to something resembling normal. "Jane." The name left her lips as little more than a breath, moving back to the table.

"_Jane."_ The voice made her want to get up, made the assassin's eyes snap open, her muscles lock as she tried to get her body under control. "_Jane, what the Hell?!_" She reached out, fisting one hand in soft hair, aiming to put the person in a headlock, immobilize them before they had her in a position that she didn't want to be in._"Jane, stop! You're hurting me!"_

"Maura?" A crack in her fear, until the emotion dissolved. What had she, what had she almost done? To her best friend, what had she been thinking? The detective shook her head, withdrawing back to lay back down, covering her face in her hands. "God, what have I done?"

"Jane." The whispered voice, a hand running up over her arm. "Jane, what did you see? What happened, in there." The detective swallowed, catching the blonde's wrist with her left hand.

"I... I don't know. It was like I wasn't me. Iohannes stopped talking and left, and I... I was scared." She closed her eyes, willing the tears not to fall, even as they slipped out unhindered despite her efforts. "Maura, Gods, Maura I'm so sorry. I would never-"

"I know." A soft hand slipped up against her cheek, twisting into dark locks, forcing the detective to look up at her. "I know. Its alright. Just tell me what happened."

"I..." She shook her head, trying to rub away the tears. "No. I, I can't."

"Jane-" The detective reached up, pulling the doctor down by her hair until they were barely a centimeter apart, pausing only slightly before pushing herself up on one elbow, closing the distance between them briefly, tears trailing down her face.

"I thought I had lost you. Like he had, so many years ago. I thought it was real, that it had happened now. I just... I can't Maura." She shook her head, blonde locks trailing through her fingers. "I can't live without-" Maura pulled her down, forcing Jane's lips open with her tongue, forcing her way in, pushing Jane's head back into the table as she demanded more from the Italian woman. Backing up for a moment in order to breathe, Maura gasped.

"I promised you. I'm not going anywhere." She whispered, pulling Jane's arms up around her neck. "I can honestly say that I hadn't expected how this would be the way that we shared our first kiss."

"I... Um, wait. You imagined this?" Maura smirked, nodding slightly as she supported her best friend to the room. Jane slipped onto the bed, grasping onto Maura's waist when she went to pull away. "Wait, don't go. Please."

"Calm down, Jane." She whispered. "I'll just be a moment, alright?" Jane nodded, willing herself to relax as the blonde stepped outside the door, propping it open a crack. Looking outside, Jane saw as the lights dimmed, turning off in clumps. The detective pulled her shirt up over her head, pulling a white tank top out of the drawer to slip over her unruly hair. Next she slid her long pants off, swapping them for a more comfortable, cleaner pair. Maura slipped back in, clad only in a tank top and yoga pants herself, blonde curls falling down her shoulders to rest around the middle of her back. It had really only been a few moments, the doctor hadn't been lying about how long she had been gone. Resting one arm over Jane as moved onto the mattress, the detective turned her head to lock with a pair of bright hazel eyes. "I... No, Iohannes. Iohannes couldn't protect her. I had thought... I thought it was me. I thought you had died, that I had failed you."

"You haven't Jane. You never will, you know."

"But what if its true, Maura? What if I fail you, Maura, I can barely remember what or who I am." The doctor shook her head, tangling her hand in Jane's hair, shaking her head.

"It doesn't matter to me, Jane. We're in this together. I promised you that, and I plan to keep my word." She paused, running a thumb over Jane's jaw, brushing it across her lips. "Why this, suddenly Jane?"

"Was it too much? Maura, I'm sorry I didn't mean-" The doctor held a finger up to her lips, silencing her.

"This was definitely not too much. I've been waiting my entire life for someone like you. This, I... I had only dreamed. I, Jane..."

"I can't lose you Maura. I'm losing myself, and I'm scared as fuck. I cant lose you too. Iohannes, he never told her how he felt, and she died on his watch. I could never, ever let that happen." Maura shivered, lowering her lips to Jane's.

"I love you too. Don't ever worry about that." Jane hummed into her mouth, answering her sweetly without words. The doctor slipped down next to Jane, twisting her fingers into dark curls at the same time as lengthy tanned ones gripped around her back. They fell into a comfortable silence, Maura closing her eyes against the tears that threatened her cover, the belief that they would get through this. She was so far from creating any type of cure, the psychological aspect was not one that she had been prepared to face, and the muscle spasms that that Jane had been experiencing were complex enough that she had to focus on them before they caused larger issues in the woman. She knew that the only thing she could do was cry, and that was more painful than anything the detective could ever say. She would have to work harder, they had to be together now. Maura Isles simply could not process a life without her Jane by her side.


	14. 10th November 2012, Jane's Cell

"Is it only you and I here, Maura?" Jane whispered, threading her fingers through the other woman's hair. The blonde nodded, humming into her neck softly. "Is that why... Why its so quiet?"

"Mmhmm. You don't have to go in today, you know. We could just... Talk. Spend the whole day together. Just you and I."

"I would love to Maura."She whispered, inhaling the scent of the woman's hair, her very essence. "But I lied to him." The doctor shot up, bracing herself over the detective's body.

"No way." The cocky smirk painted across her face nearly made the doctor start laughing. "How did you manage that?"

"Iohannes destroyed the apple." Maura's jaw fell open, and she leaned forward to kiss her. "Or rather the first one."

"The first one?" Maura paused, resting her chin on one hand.

"There are three. Or rather, there were. He found a fourth one, but I don't know exactly what he's done with it. But Maura, it was almost like Iohannes was done with memories."

"So what do you think could be the effect of going back in?"

"I'm not sure, could there be other ancestors who have memories to share?" Maura paused, before nodding slightly.

"Theoretically, yes. I don't have any evidence stating that the animus is restricted to only a single ancestor." Jane moved to get up, when a hand braced her back down. "But Jane, the animus, it is dangerous. It will kill you." The brunette reached up, pulling the doctor's face down to meet her own. Their kiss was sweet, slow. More of a promise than anything else.

"So we figure out how far Iohannes got, before that happens. You know the machines, we can do this. Together."

"Absolutely. But Jane, you have to be careful." Jane nodded, slipping her fingers through Maura's hair as they stayed still, relishing the moment together for as long as they could.

"I will. I promise." She smiled sadly. "And besides,with you on the other side, I know nothing will happen to me here. I trust you. So lets get started, before Doyle returns, angry as shit." Maura nodded, lifting herself up slowly, Jane following. She sat on the metallic structure as Maura started up the main computer, the machines humming to life. "Maur."

"Jane?"

"Didn't Doyle used to watch the memories?"

"No. I could try the programming, but I'm not Frost. Most important is the signals corresponding with your well- being. I'm trying to focus mainly on that." Jane nodded, laying back slowly. "Alright, you're going in." She whispered, moving to the detective's side.

"Be here when I wake up?"

"Of course. Every time." Maura promised, waiting before the change on the screen signified that Jane had transferred into the memory successfully. Glancing over at the detective, she opened the files on her own research, skimming over everything she knew, and various more questions that she could only hope had answers that would be unlocked sooner, rather than later. Biting down on her lip, she moved around the animus, starting up the second computer as well, skimming over the programming for watching the memories as Jane lived them. She may not have been anywhere near Frost's level of computer coding, but she still knew a little bit of something that could be useful. Opening the program, she skimmed over the numbers, watching carefully. When it connected, she shook her head. Doyle had coded it so that only he could use such a thing. There were various passwords blocking her access, and she moved back to her own computer. Taking care of Jane was more important than anything else. Pulling up the chemical mixtures, she looked over the previous attempts at a cure, shaking her head. It was nowhere near perfect yet. She sighed. "God, Jane. I wish I..." She sobbed, tears slipping through from the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'll try harder. I have to." She rubbed her eyes, shaking the fear out of herself before she focused on the problem at hand, typing rapidly on the keyboard. She didn't know how much time was left for them, and she could only hope that Jane was as successful as she was hoping to be herself. Everything the detective was rested in the balance of the animus. No, that was a lie. Everything that they both were. Maura nodded. Yes, Jane needed her. But she needed Jane more than the detective could even imagine. She had to find a cure. She had to.


	15. 1499 AD, Rome

Giovanni dropped into the vault, Leonardo following closely, pulling his assassin's hood back as he landed softly, as only an assassin could. The room they were in was dim, not a single window lighting the room, and only torches gracing the wall every handful of feet apart in distance.

"The Vault, I never thought it had truly existed." The elderly man whispered, running a hand over his lengthy gray beard. "The artifact, it is said to lay its seat upon the pedestal in the center, and yet I see no such pedestal."

"There's another room." The leading assassin whispered in reply, also tugging his hood back to expose lengthy, black hair and tanned skin. His jaw was sharp as he set it, eyes wandering over every crack, every feature of the wall around them. "The back wall, DaVinci, towards the right. The stone changes, there's a miniscule amount of differences. Enough to signify the changes, a hidden passage, the other room."

"Astounding. You are indeed observant, my boy." Giovanni smirked, nodding his head.

"I try my best. Can you figure out a way to open such a device?" The elderly man, whom Giovanni had only recently discovered as being a part of the guild, as being a loyal follower to his path, nearly under his command. The man approached the wall, tapping lightly in various places, listening to the different sounds as they appeared. "Any answers? Ideas?"

"Yes, but there seems to be a key necessary. Some sort of device, like a diamond edged sphere, or something of the like. It almost appears to require the apple in order to be opened, rather than the apple being contained within the Vault itself. Does that make any sense?"

"Loads of it. Perhaps the Pope kept it with him, however he had not had it in the previous fight." The artist assassin's brow furrowed as he watched Giovanni draw out the bulky knife he had taken from the same man they were now discussing as though he had gained more respect in all eyes, not only the commoners and the Templar. As if the assassins would ever consider following such a man. "DaVinci, what about this. Can you try anything with this?" He flipped it, grasping onto the blade in order to hand the hilt to the other man.

"Of course, My lord Giovanni. I can try." He held it up to the light, turning it in his hands a few times before tapping it against solid stone, rotating it a few more times. "Why- but of course." He turned the blade, cutting a shallow slice across his palm, rubbing the crimson liquid on the hilt. It seeped through a crack that had been all but invisible before, and the assassin used his own knife to crack the hilt, opening it. "Could it have truly been with us this entire time? Could it have been so simple?"

"More often than not it in fact is." Giovanni answered, prying the metallic hilt open, withdrawing a gold chain, the end weighted, withdrawing a diamond- like sphere at the end. "We've had the apple all along, and so why are we here?"

"Well, because you ordered it."

"Because we need to get into the Vault. Even I am not certain why. Not anymore."

"A wise assassin is one whom admits to the lack of knowledge he has in his own possession." The artist stated, before pulling his hood up over his eyes again, the other man placing the apple into the opening, twisting to the right a quarter turn. There was the sound of stone scraping against stone, before the wall made a shaky descent, receding down into what had seemed previously to be solid ground. The assassin stood, withdrawing the apple to wear it as a necklace, pausing before wrapping it around the hilt of his sword instead. Entering the room, it was empty, save for a singular structure in the center, which resembled less of a pedestal than a broken down statue that appeared to be of a woman. She had one hand outstretched, palm held upwards as if she had been speaking as she had frozen in time, and Giovanni approached, slowly, following the artist as he circled around the cracked, chipped marble. "Astounding. How long do you believe it has been here?"

"_Since the beginning of the time of this world." _The soft voice echoed, Giovanni tilting his head upwards to where the statue's head should have been, but had broken many years ago. There was a slight sparkling, a warping of the space, before a woman stepped down, her hood blocking her face from view, but her hands pales where they showed from beneath her flowing, silk- like sleeves. Her dress was something like an ancient one from the times of old Rome, and it hugged her tightly beneath a dark purple cape that billowed out behind her. Giovanni stopped, simply staring. "_Though I wasn't always a statue. And not always in such... Awful condition. Sad, how things change in just a blink of the immortal eye."_

"What are-" She shook her head, holding a finger up to her lips.

"_He can not hear me, nor see me. Not like you, both of you."_ Giovanni turned, looking for someone else, furrowing his brow. The woman seemed to smile._ "You can not see her, either. But she is here, or she shall be in many a year from now. But Giovanni, there is much to be done. My vault, it is tainted. My statue is broken, my powers faded over this piece of the land. The world is changing again, as it once did." _She brought her hand up, brushing the golden apple. "_These are the keys, the three of them that are known, and the one that is not. They must be destroyed, Giovanni. Wait!" _The holographic, see- through image blocked his hand with her own as the assassin made a move to break the artifact. "_There is still more that you must learn, more that must be remembered, for future times. But fear not, Giovanni La Rizza,will know the moment that you may destroy such a piece, the moment when you have such a power. Good luck to you, assassin. And I would suggest that you leave here, before the temple falls with you in it. All would most certainly be lost then. So try not to die, alright?"_ He nodded slightly, before he attempted to reply to ask a question. She shook her head, silencing him again. "_Fear not, I feel as though we will meet again, in the course of things. Do not worry on my sake, after all, I am already dead. Now go, before it truly is too late. Oh, and bring the artist with you. He will prove useful yet."_ The assassin nodded, before turning tail to run in the opposite direction, Leonardo following closely to his call, the vision cracking to show only the room, as if it was frozen, graying out. The woman was in the center of it all, the surroundings fading in her presence. _"To you, in the future. Jane, the rest, the very future, is up to you. The entire world, its fate is in your hands now. May we... May we meet again." _She turned, before raising a hand, closing her fist, and the temple fell around her.


	16. 17th November 2012, Jane's Cell

Jane's eyes opened, and she tensed against the inability to control her body, Maura's hand running up over her forearm, resting there as the woman shook. She reached up, tangling one shaking hand into the blonde's hair, the doctor catching her wrist to brace it there. Jane reflected on how far she had come, emotionally. This phenomenon, whatever was causing her body's awful reaction to the experiences within the animus, it still frightened her immensely. Only now, she had controlled that part of the reaction almost completely, she could concentrate fully on the task of regaining control. After an amount of time she didn't even want to consider, the detective let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"Are you alright now?"

"Relatively speaking, I think so." She moved, slowly, rising up into a sitting position, wrapping both arms around Maura in order to draw her close. Standing there like that, foreheads touching lightly, breathing the same air as one another, eyes closed, it was almost as if they were home. As if none of this had ever happened, that Jane was not sitting on the unforgiving machine that was damning them both to a fate they could barely image, but on the counter top in Beacon Hill. Bass was munching on a British strawberry in the corner of the kitchen, they could hear the quiet snoring of Jo Friday from the living room, and ran the risk of Angela walking in on them at any moment, of finding them in such a compromising position. It was almost as though, when they were together like so, that there was still hope to get out, to be free. "I'm going to wash up."

"I'll do something for food." Yet neither of them moved, Maura's hands winding into the dark hair, tilting her head up. "Were you just thinking-"

"Christmas back home? Mmhmm. You and I, and ma', bustling around the kitchen. The risk of being caught on the counter-"

"You had us doing it on the counter?" Maura smiled. "I could get used to that. So, you've moved in, haven't you."

"We're together, every night. Every day. You and I." It was more of a promise than any other words had been. Maura hummed, pressing their lips together tightly, pulling the detective in tighter, pressing their chests together, fighting for dominance in the kiss, before giving up. She pulled back, barely a breath apart again.

"Come on, you go change, I'll get some food. Then we can consider the future possibilities some more." Jane nodded, kissing the side of her neck, before loosening her grip around her girlfriend's waist, rising up to stand, stretching her back as she did so. "Better?"

"Much, The table is rather uncomfortable, Maura."

"I would imagine so. Go on, then. I'll see you in a little bit." Jane nodded, heading off towards the showers, all but tearing off her clothes and dropping them in an undignified pile beside the sink, hot water streaming down over tense muscles. In a few minutes, she was wringing out her hair, wrapping a warm towel around her torso. Stepping out, she tucked the towel under one arm, pulling her hair back as she glanced at herself in the mirror. Moving her hand to shift the towel again, the detective found it covered in red.

"Blood? But where-" Her hair was matted in it, the fluid of a living body streaming down her shoulders, staining the white towel with red. There was writing on the mirror, seeping out from cracks she couldn't see, didn't want to find. Everything white, slowly turning red with blood. Maura's blood. It was her fault, that the doctor had been lost, that she was dead. Jane reached up, covering her head with her hands.

"Jane? Jane!" Footsteps, a hand on her shoulder, the other wrapping around her, pulling her close. "Jane, its alright. Its alright, I'm here. I'm here." Tangling one hand into her dark hair, she tightened her grip around the detective. "I'm not going anywhere."

"You were dead." The muffled words were spoken into her shoulder, and Maura shifted, tilting Jane's head up, glaring directly into her eyes, questioning. "Your blood was everywhere. You were gone." Maura shifted, brushing their lips together before opening her own, moving slowly, gently. When she broke their kiss for air, she pulled the detective's hair back from her face.

"I am most definitely alive. So are you." She whispered, running her thumb over Jane's lips.

"What's happening to me?" Maura pulled her in tighter, shaking her head. "Maura, am I going insane?" The doctor closed her eyes, she would have to hurry on perfecting a cure, or at the least, doing as much as she could.

"I... I don't know, Jane. I just don't know."


	17. 1514 AD, Borgia

The ship was under attack, and it was way too many soldiers to be anything but an important target. He crouched on top of the building, sending off a hawk from his left arm. His second army, they were waiting for orders, standing watch over the many cities. The most important, however, was the nearest one. She had risen quickly to his right hand fighter, blonde hair streaming down in thick curls over both shoulders, ending delicately at the bottom of her shoulder blades. She wore a white hood, outside of the very gates he was north of, waiting on a command that she could only hope would come. Giovanni smirked. She was beautiful, too. Far more beautiful than any other woman that the Italian assassin had ever met before in his life. And far more understanding, if quirky, and positively brilliant. That was why he had appointed her, in a difficult war such as this, a war against a people as fierce and strong as they were themselves. She would wait only an hour more, and then leave for her own good. In order to return to Masyaf, to the fortress of the assassins. To return to the Vault there, Altair's vault. She would have to open it, even if it were that he was not to make the journey. As the hawk made its way to the skies, the assassin crept closer to the ship.

"But I travel onward, to the new world!" A man cried out, and Giovanni drew his hidden blades, both of them resting coolly against his palms. There were Templar attacking him. That was certain.

"There is an Apple in the New world, there must be. For the third is nowhere to be found here." Well, that certainly had the assassin's attention, he was seeking the same thing as this Templar, only in a different form. "You will simply take the Templar with you, Christophe."

"I can not! There are already members assigned for my crew, travelers to come with me. Too many for the ship as it is! I could not possibly take any more." The Templar pointed to one of his guard, referencing the rest of the ship, the men on board. Giovanni crouched above them, silent as his hawk upon the beams of the ship's sails.

"Kill the men. Trap the women, they're ours now." Giovanni jumped, arms going out to the sides before he flipped, gathering his legs beneath himself in order to land braced against the guard's back. His hidden blade was swift, the body falling even as he pulled out the short sword, bracing it up in a defensive position. He'd cut down another before the Templar had even the moment to react, directing the tip towards the captain.

"I suggest, that you fight with me prior to such action." The Italian assassin growled out, blocking a blow and parrying seamlessly, driving his blade through the next guard to attack. With a yell, the Templar's sword met his own in a deadly duel he had replicated much too many times to count. Giovanni turned, running a few steps up the mast before flipping, cutting downward with the sword and following closely with the assassin's blade.

"You, assassin, have no idea what you have done."

"I win this round, Templar. That is all I know that matters." He swung the sword, passing it back into its sheath before cutting the binds that tied the other man's hands. "Your name is Christophe?" He asked, looking at the man closely.

"Why yes, young man."

"And there is an Apple of Eden in the new world? The place that you are going?" The man's brow furrowed, and he shrugged.

"I wouldn't know about any of that. I am simply hired to sail around the world to India. That is all I know." Giovanni nodded, frowning slightly as he called down a hawk with a whistle. "You may accompany me, if you would like." The assassin paused, looking back at the man. He could find the last apple. Destroy them both, end it all. The hawk crooned, and Giovanni looked at her, staring into the sharp eyes of a bird, one much like himself. He reached forward, stroking the dark feathers on the top of her head, combing the feathers down as he thought. He could, he could travel to the the last apple, end everything. But would it really be over? And then... What about Maire? Pulling a paper from his pouch, scribbling quickly, tying it to the talon.

"Christophe, it would bring me great joy to go to such a place. However, I can not. Instead, a friend of mine is going to. Her name is Stasia, and she comes from the north. It is hard for her here, so in a new place, I would hope you would be more forgiving of the past." The hawk lifted, flying off quickly into the sky, disappearing within a few moments. "I would have her help you, she is a wonderful navigator, good company." He tilted his head, furrowing his brow again.

"Well, will she be here? I need to leave on the morrow, so it would be useful in order for-"

"She will be here shortly." Crouching on the side of the deck, he looked up to the sky, watching for wings, and then out over the city. There was footsteps, and then the sound of a person dropping down into a crouch beside him.

"Assassin, who is-"

"Stasia." Giovanni whispered, pushing the green hood from covering her face, exposing thick, dark hair tied up in a braid that had begun loosening over some time he could only guess at. He ran a thumb over the tanned cheek, and she looked up at him, eyes bluer than they should have been, bright. When one looked closely, her skin color was much lighter, the only resemblance between the two being their hair. "You are going to go with Christophe, in my place." He leaned down, breath touching her ear. "Bring with you the assassin's ways, begin a guild there, and find it. Find the apple." She nodded, silent. Giovanni pressed a short kiss to her cheek, releasing his right handed blade while she dropped out her left. They switched quickly, strapping the new ones into place on their dominant hands, grasping elbows. "Be safe, my sister."

"I vy , kak khorosho. Lyubite yeye." _And you, as well. Love her._ Giovanni smirked, she had always known him better than he had known himself.

"Christophe, this is Stasia. She came to Italy from Russia many years ago. She speaks little English, and less Italian, but I find she has an uncanny ability to learn quickly, if one has the patience. You take care of her, understand?" The man nodded, offering his arm to her, and she allowed herself to be led towards the ship, as Giovanni headed from the vessel himself. Back on the dock, he paused, and she turned back to him, raising a hand to her lips. "_Do Svidaniya, Malyshka."_ The assassin whispered, raising his own, before he turned back towards the empty streets. He had turned twice before pulling his hood back down. "It is not necessary to follow so far away, Maire."

"I know." Her hand slid into his, and she pulled her own hood away from blonde tresses.

"Why are you here. You were supposed to head out towards Masyaf." She shrugged, resting her right hand on his gauntlet softly.

"I saw Stasia. I was curious." A long silence. "You didn't have to send your sister to the new world." Giovanni smirked, shaking his head.

"There is no one else I trust to find the last Apple more. Because if she does not succeed to find it, then-"

"Her children will. And if not them, then her grandchildren, and their children, and the children of those who come to life later." She paused again. "You could have sent me." It was a whisper, and Giovanni tightened his grip on her hand, pulling the slight form into his own. He unhitched the bay mare she used, offering the reins to the woman, as he unhitched his own chestnut colored horse.

"Shall we?" She flashed a brilliant grin, accepting, before vaulting easily into the saddle.

"To Masyaf, we shall!"


	18. 1514 AD, Masyaf

The gates were closed, barred tightly, and Giovanni pulled up at the same moment that Maire did. The woman cocked an eyebrow at the other assassin, shaking her head as she rolled her eyes. They hadn't meant to get back at close to dawn, but the gates were not usually closed, despite the time of day, or the season. Giovanni shrugged.

"Around the back then, I suppose. Its probably better like this, even the assassins won't really know that we're here. Can't hurt." Maire smirked, rolling her eyes as she jumped from the back of her horse, following Giovanni as they headed around the stone walls, towards the towering keep.

"As if there is any way that Faulknerre doesn't already know we're here." Color painted her cheeks, and Giovanni raised an eyebrow in question to the reaction, yet he said nothing. If she wished to tell her story, to explain herself, then she would. He would never pressure her to speak if she did not wish it. Instead, they scaled up the wall, Giovanni jumping across the ledge below the rooftop before swinging up onto the second perch. Maire was up on the first one in less than a moment, before they jumped off in one breath, flipping to land on their backs in the hay.

"The vault is situated in the basement. We aught to head there immediately, we'll open the door and see what I can find." She nodded, following him through the nearly silent roads, checking around each turn for people. There weren't many, and of those, mostly children. It was as though every assassin had gone somewhere else. "Oh, of course! Come on." Giovanni sprinted towards the keep, opening the large door and heading to the council chamber. Outside, he paused, glaring through the crack in the door. Nodding, the assassin rolled his eyes, backing a few paces, before turning towards the stairs leading to the basement.

"Giovanni, I'm... I'm going to attend. I haven't seen him in awhile, and its just... I... We, well, we're engaged. So I'll see you in Rome again, yea?" Giovanni nodded.

"Yea. Sure. Send word if you can't make it."

"Send word with a mission, I'll make it." Her smile was slightly sad, and it echoed the Italian assassin's feelings perfectly. He thought that it had been love, and maybe it had. Now however, Giovanni would never be sure. Instead, he descended the stairs, pushing the heavy key into the lock before turning it. Th vault swung open, and he took a few cautious steps within, until he saw the skeleton.

"Iohannes, nothing could ever be simple with you, could it." The assassin mumbled, walking towards the forgotten corpse. "Didn't think so. Not a tale to tell us, written anywhere. But something in your hands, of course. As if my heart being smashed on the floor of Masyaf wasn't good enough for today." He paused, prying open the skeletal fingers, exposing a single piece of paper. The Italian unfolded it slowly, reading the scribbled writing. "You couldn't break her heart? I don't..." Giovanni pulled the Apple from his inside pocket, looking at it. "Of course. Could it have really been that simple, all this time?" Giovanni tossed the Apple that he had found in Italy up a bit, catching it, before throwing it as hard as he could towards the wall. The shattering of glass was something that he would not regret, watching the golden shards fall gracelessly to the floor, disappearing into sand. Pulling the gold chain from within the resting assassin's hand, he looked to it sadly. As he held the weight in his right hand, sitting right over the blade, it was as though he was holding on to Maire's own heart, rather than his own. He looked to the skeleton, which seemed to be staring at him, expecting something. "Yea, I can't break her heart either, I don't blame you. Rest easy." The Italian assassin rose, heading out of the vault before pulling the key, tossing it inside the vault before shutting the door with a finality. He would hold on to the sphere, and then figure out something to do with it. After some time passed, to say the least.


End file.
